The Incident
by seigaku.identity
Summary: Ryoma has gone pro, even before he meets Tezuka Kunimitsu. An incident occured when he was twelve, catalyzing his dedication to tennis, thereby getting him to where he is now. Tezuka is a college student at Tokyo University, and vice-captain of the tennis team, who is speculated to win the upcoming Nationals. Romance blooms but will the past break them apart?
1. Chapter 1

_Gasp. _Ryoma eyes opened with a start. For a brief second, his mind was a complete blank before it all came flooding back to him. Like the beads of perspiration slowly trickling down the sides of his neck, the tentacles of the haunting nightmare lost its grip and Ryoma could feel it crawling back to whatever hell it came from. Bit by bit, Ryoma let out the breath he had been holding. Images so frightening, that even when gone, the clarity remains, startling lucid. Then again, when one has gone through it in reality, there is nothing to stop the subconscious from drawing its inspiration straight from the awakened mind.

Waiting with a studied patience until feeling came back to his cramped muscles, Ryoma tried to relax. _Nightmare again_. He had thought he was recovered. The memory of a distant past was just that, no more than a forgotten reference in some history textbook. But apparently, he had thought wrong. Wryly, he pictured the expression on Dr. Jacquemann's face, when he let him know about this night. Dr. Jacquemann was a good psychologist and much rather preferred his patients to never fall into relapse even if it meant less income. Not that the doctor needed the money. Dr. Jacquemann came with the highest recommendations from the celebrity world. And if Ryoma had not been who he was, he may not have afforded his fees.

Just as well, he was due for a review appointment. This night could not have chosen a better time to happen.

Ryoma stared at the clock on his bedside table. _Three AM._ It was a little antique clock, with no luminescent hands, but Ryoma could read it easily anyways, seeing how his lamp was still turned on. He could not recall the time he ever slept in total darkness. Not since the incident. In the deepest corners of Ryoma's mind, he knew with certainty that it could never be forgotten. In his very first appointment, Dr. Jacquemann had told him that he was no miracle worker.

The good doctor only promised moving on beyond it, but no, it could never be forgotten.

Once he could move, Ryoma made haste, quickly stripping his pyjamas that were uncomfortably clinging to him, on the way to the shower. The hot water washed over him, and as he breathed in the soap scent, he could feel the oncoming nausea diminishing swiftly. _Good._ He was going to keep the contents of his stomach this time. It was a regime Dr. Jacquemann taught him, and despite his stubborn nature to resist any instruction, Ryoma had learnt early on that following his doctor's orders was not just helpful. Strictly speaking, it was necessary to his survival. The green tea and mint concoction he used as soap was not a coincidental purchase. It was borne from multiple sessions with Dr. Jacquemann and bending over the toilet bowl heaving out everything he ate the day before. The nightmares were always accompanied by bouts of nausea, and Ryoma was very fortunate that the soap was so readily available in the supermarkets. Dr. Jacquemann was unable to give any reasons why it worked, and Ryoma had long since stopped dwelling on the how or why.

How's and why's no longer had a place in his life.

Once before, he had sunken into the profound depression they brought, questioning what he must have done to bring the fates against him, to bring him down that alleyway on that day, which would have just been like any other day, if not for the incident. Strange, or to be more precise, ironical, that a single incident, of so short a duration could be the cataclysmic event that ended the world he thought he knew, and yet at the very same time, started him on a journey towards a new world. Many had envied him his consecutive Grand Slam wins, the celebrity fanfare, the sponsorships, the glittering world he seem to live in and epitomized. Very few, in fact, besides Nanjiroh and his mother, only Dr. Jacquemann had ever seen the faint scars on his front and back, and the ones on his thighs. _Lucky to be alive._ They were the only ones who knew the truth, the only ones to whom he had allowed the privilege of bestowing their care and counsel upon him. He had gotten to this skill level, acquired his invincibility on the pro-circuit courts, only because tennis had been the only companion he could derive any sort of comfort from.

Before, Ryoma had played tennis because of Nanjiroh. After the incident, he played tennis because he had nothing left.

Frankly, even Ryoma himself did not know if he was born with tennis legend potential. Nanjiroh was the only reason why he ever played. Every move he learnt on the courts counted as one more move against his father. He had been making progress, getting closer to his goal of defeating his father. Nanjiroh had been more focused when they played their evening match just a few days before the incident.

The Ryoma now could barely recall that time, when he had been so naively contented with life.

After the incident, Ryoma had left his school almost immediately. Nanjiroh had thought it got in the way of his recuperation. In the following few months, as Ryoma recovered from his physical injuries, his parents concentrated on seeking a psychologist who could help them. Ryoma could remember the time he met Dr. Jacquemann very clearly. It was the morning after another particularly sleepless night, and he had again just emptied everything he ate the day before. He had no strength to get out of bed, and had been losing weight at an alarming rate.

Dr. Jacquemann had taken one look at him, and to Ryoma's surprise, addressed him directly, "Kid, have you taken a look in the mirror yet? You look like hell." And so it was, Dr. Jacquemann was hired and they began their first session right there in his bedroom.

Tennis had always been the only way Nanjiroh knew how to communicate with his beloved son, and in the years after the incident, Nanjiroh and Ryoma had badly needed to communicate. As the frequency of nightmares trickled down, and Ryoma finally gained back his weight, Nanjiroh had approached his son just before dinner with two tennis rackets in one hand, and begun in his usual way, "Eh, think you can beat me yet?" His golden eyes slightly widened, Ryoma hesitantly accepted one of the rackets, and as he held it in his familiar grip, he realized the immense comfort it brought him. For the first time, he was no longer focused on winning when he played his father on the court, but was immersed in the complete freedom and escape from the dark thoughts that always threatened to erode the edges of his mind. He felt his pain and grief alleviated, and for that briefest of moments, he could actually forget the incident. He did lose the match after all, even with Nanjiroh giving him a handicap of four matches. It was no surprise. His stamina, having suffered such a setback, would require more than just time to be restored.

There was no turning back after that day. Dr Jacquemann finally discussed ending his weekly sessions four years after the incident, cutting it back to a review session once a year. He had gone pro by that time, and played his first Grand Slam match, though he lost at the semi-finals. At seventeen, he became the youngest player to ever win the Grand Slam, and at eighteen, the youngest player ever to achieve it twice. His father, having been defeated just before he went pro, acted as his manager and coach, and although it was hard to imagine how Nanjiroh could keep anything organized, he evidently worried too much for his son to put up with anyone else in that role. Tennis became Ryoma's single passion. It was his career, his life, and dominated his world.

_Patter patter._ _Meow meow._ Stepping out of the shower, already fully dressed and very awake, Ryoma bent down to stroke Karupin, whom he often liked to think of as _his_ particular Himalayan guardian. He certainly felt safer when she was around. The incident had changed Karupin in some ways too. In the past, Karupin often took long wandering walks about the neighborhood, scaring the neighbor's poodles, and occasionally hanging around Nanjiroh. Now it seems, Karupin spent all the time shadowing Ryoma, whether in the house or when Ryoma ran an errand in the neighborhood. She fussed terribly when Ryoma had to leave for his tournaments, spending all the time, even having her meals in Ryoma's room, and seemingly found it difficult to believe that a cat, no matter her importance, could not be allowed on tournaments with her master.

As Ryoma coddled the fur ball, he pondered how he could spend the rest of the night, without waking the household. Going back to bed was not an option. Strangely, he could not recollect when he had his last nightmare prior to this night. For all that the nightmares relentlessly hounded him, when they began to die down after the first year, it had been relatively uneventful. The Echizen household gradually slipped back to its habitual ways. Nights became serene. Nanjiroh stopped checking on him in the middle of every night. And now, after so long, Ryoma could not figure out why this peace was broken. Perhaps Dr. Jacquemann would have some conjectures for him when they meet later this week. He always had some, even when there could be no conclusion.

Giving a second glance at his tennis racquet, Ryoma shook his head and made himself comfortable at the desk. He turned on the laptop, and began randomly browsing through the Internet for tennis-related news. There were many pages carrying his photographs, both on and off the courts, and his eyes quickly skipped through those. A few of the sites were created by his fans, and tended to be somewhat extreme, complete with heart bubbles surrounding his face and pink backgrounds, and although they carried much information about his blood type, height, weight, eye color, birthday, game statistics, and the like, there was little that painted anything of his character or personality. Ryoma was well-known in the media for his dislike and avoidance of any questions related to his personal life, and Nanjiroh was even more defensive of his son's privacy. In spite of the often abortive attempts by sponsors to create a more affable Ryoma, to the public, he was all about tennis and only tennis. As the fates would have it, this image of a young invincible samurai warrior with a hard cold front and tennis obsession, worked to Ryoma's favor, and his fandom continued to grow throughout the tennis world, especially in Japan since he was of the same lineage.

He had been reading an article commenting on the Japanese tennis pro scene, when he chanced upon a link: university/skills&techniques/livechat/.

_A platform for all interested in tennis to discuss tennis at the University level._

This was a new link. He had not seen it on this site that covers Tokyo tennis before, and with a mild interest, he performed a quick calculation in his head, estimating the time in Tokyo to be around noon on a Saturday.

With a click of his mouse, Ryoma entered the chatroom using the moniker "sleepless_in_LA".


	2. Chapter 2

As Ryoma waited for the page to load fully, he amused himself by picturing what kind of strange tennis fanatics are likely to give up lunch time on a Saturday, only to spend it in a chat room. Although the chat room could of course, be accessed from all parts of the world, and one may even consider it arrogant of Ryoma, but he thought it unlikely that _sleepless_ tennis players with Japanese lineage and interest in University-level tennis like him existed in any vast numbers outside of Japan.

In truth, due to his pro status at such a young age, Ryoma sorely lacked interaction with players in his own age group. Ryoma felt quite certain he should have been attending college now, if not for the incident. At the very least, his mother would have expected him to somehow find a balance between getting a degree and a tennis career. Nanjiroh might have objected to college, but when it came to important matters concerning Ryoma, his mother always had veto power. Rights or not though, the incident had caused his mother to think college will be one more burden she could not, in earnest, pressed upon Ryoma, thus hoping perhaps her son might broach the subject himself. Ryoma, for whom the meaning of life had taken a dramatic turn, never brought it up, so even after his recovery, no mention was ever made of his possible return to school. Hence, in actuality, Ryoma was not just lacking the society of players his own age, but of society at large. His parents recognized this was not normal for any teenager bordering on adulthood. Even the most introverted ones should have _at least_ one acquaintance they could call once in a while, but normality had since resigned from the Echizen household a long time ago.

They only wished for Ryoma to be happy, and if Ryoma was happy with only a cat or a tennis racquet for company, neither his father nor his mother was going to risk suggesting otherwise.

Given his deprivation of college experience and perhaps an underlying competitive streak, it was only natural that Ryoma was mildly curious as to how his skills compared with those his age. Being pro level and a Grand Slam champion at that, he knew he probably surpassed the best of them, but the main question was by how much. And so it was, he hoped to figure out an answer before breakfast, taking advantage of the anonymity granted him on the Internet to break out of his social recluse mold a little. It then hit him that given the time, he may not actually find very many persons inside, and this was proven true when the page finally loaded.

_**Sleepless_in_LA just joined. Data_master178lbs, Tensai_tokyoU, and Oishi_21 are in the room. **_

For an instant, Ryoma deliberated on leaving the chat, and was just mere milliseconds from clicking on the exit button, when Oishi_21 addressed him, the line appearing in a blue text font. What really stopped him was that the text was in English.

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Hello there. Are you from the States?_

And even before Ryoma could reply, another line appeared, this time in Japanese.

_**Data_master178lbs: **__Given his alias, probability of a reply in the positive is 100%._

Ryoma was tempted to say no, just to irk this so-called _Data_master_. It was no doubt that this person must have already guessed, quite correctly that Ryoma understands Japanese. Ryoma wondered what kind of person uses his own weight in a moniker. Birthdates, age, yes, those were common enough, but weight specified with units so there could be no misunderstanding, now that had to be a first for Ryoma, and strangely, he was willing to bet that the figure was actually genuine. Giving a mental shrug, Ryoma began to enter the conversation, responding in Japanese.

_**Sleepless_in_LA: **__Hai. _

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_I se_e_. Why are you sleepless? _

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**__ I thought this chat is supposed to discuss tennis._

_**Data_master178lbs:**__ You are right, it is. But you should tell us more about yourself first. The rest of us here already know each other and have played matches before._

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Oh my, please accept my sincere apologies. It is all right if you do not wish to answer. _

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _You guys are from Tokyo University? In the tennis team?_

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Yes, yes! We were just catching up with some former teammates from high school. They left just before you joined. Because this is new, it is not very crowded so we are kind of monopolizing it for now. And we do meet players from other University teams here sometimes. _

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_You are the first foreigner to come in._

Ryoma felt he was in luck. Since this _Oishi_ person was so forthcoming with information, he could quit beating around the bush and just get straight to the point.

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**__ Are you guys any good?_

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Nani?!_

_**Data_master178lbs: **__That depends on your definition of "good". _

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _Ever heard of the Echizen guy? The pro?_

_**Data_master178lbs: **__Technically there are two. Who are you referring to? _

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _Not the retired one. The one playing now._

_**Data_master178lbs: **__Yes we have heard of him. Why?_

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _How do you guys compare to him?_

There was a long pause. Minutes went by and Ryoma realized rather belatedly that he may have offended them with his bluntness. He noticed the _tensai_ guy had not spoken at all. Maybe they _all_ went to the bathroom or grab lunch or something. Deciding to give them a few more minutes, Ryoma went to pick up Karupin who was nestled in her favorite corner on Ryoma's bed. Placing her on his lap to stroke her fur, he glanced at his laptop screen. He was a bit surprised to see a response, and from the _tensai_ guy no less.

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__Echizen Ryoma is a very accomplished player. _

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _I know that._

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__We are very proud that a Japanese athlete has finally won the Grand Slam, and at such a young age._

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _And so?_

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__His championship match just last month was a real eye-opener. _

This _tensai_ was really infuriating with his unnecessary obsequiousness, and proving to be quite a challenge to Ryoma's patience. Briefly, he wondered if the _tensai_ was one of his fans or merely trying to detract from responding to his original query. Just as he decided to simply google the Tokyo University tennis team for their game stats on the web, the next line caught his attention.

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__If our captain or vice-captain were to play against him, I think it may be difficult to predict the result._

And then the prompt response that followed startled him.

_**Data_master178lbs: **__Based on current data, my calculations indicate that there should be a 59% or 65% probability in favor of Echizen Junior in the case of playing against Tezuka or Atobe respectively._

It did not take Ryoma long to deduce that Tezuka and Atobe must refer to their captain and vice-captain. From the probabilities given, Ryoma supposed that Tezuka must be the captain. But this presumption was quickly overturned as the data master continued.

_**Data_master178lbs: **__The probabilities may easily change though. It really depends on who is closer to his optimal point just before the match, so perhaps I need more information such as timing of the match and its location. _

_**Data_master178lbs: **__When both are at their optimal points, I say they will tie at 60% in favor of Echizen Junior still, but based on their current training routines and course work commitment levels, Tezuka has a slightly higher advantage than Atobe right now._

_**Data_master178lbs: **__That MBA project course of his is taking quite a lot out of our captain these days. I think the sleep debt he has accumulated so far will definitely catch up to him in a match against Echizen Junior. _

_**Oishi_21**_**:** _Oh yes, I am a little worried for Atobe. His concentration is not as before. _

_60% only? _Ryoma was a little taken aback. Although not so conceited as to be truly appalled by it, Ryoma still felt a little shaken at the odds, even though it was in his favor. After all, he did win two Grand Slam championships _consecutively_. Surely, no matter the prowess of Tokyo University tennis, Ryoma had expected that he could easily overcome their most talented player. To learn that there was not just one, but two such non-pro players, against whom he had a 40% chance of losing, was quite overwhelming, to say the least. From his prior readings about Japanese tennis, he knew that the tennis team at Tokyo University was slated to be champion at the Nationals this year. There have also been allusions that many scouts on the lookout for potential, have been heading to their matches, although specific names were never revealed. It may very well be that Tezuka and Atobe are headed for the pro circuit once they complete their college education, a scenario for which Ryoma could not deny a little sense of anticipation, now that he has had a clearer impression of their _proficiency_. It was only a hunch but he believed the data master was not one to form such baseless opinions. And for some reason, he felt that the _tensai_ also could not be so simply discounted.

Hardly able to contain his excitement, Ryoma typed quickly, afraid that any delay on his part would cause them to exit the session. After all, it was way past their lunch time on their side.

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**_ _Does Tezuka or Atobe log in here as well?_

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Tezuka tries to, when he is not busy. Especially when there are former team mates here. I will usually call him directly to join if I find someone I know he would have liked to speak with. _

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_We have never seen Atobe here since we started using this._

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__Why are you asking about them?_

Fingers halted above his keyboard, Ryoma phrased his reply carefully.

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**__ No reason in particular. Curious, I guess._

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__Who exactly are you?_

An image of penetrating eyes flashed through Ryoma's mind. He could almost feel the intense stare directed at him from the screen. An uncomfortable shiver ran down his spine. It was time to make a quick polite exit.

_**Sleepless_in_LA:**__ Just another tennis player, like yourselves._

_**Sleepless_in_LA: **__Excuse me. I think I am keeping you guys from lunch, so I should go now. __Take care._

_**Sleepless_in_LA exits the room.**_

It was abrupt but Ryoma had never been particularly inclined to uphold his manners usually, and certainly not in an internet chat room, where he was virtually unidentifiable. Unbeknownst to him, after his exit, the conversation persisted a while, centered round this new intruder who has sufficiently piqued everyone's interest.

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Well, I think he must be someone we know. After all, he seems to think that he was in danger of us recognizing him or something._

_**Tensai_tokyoU: **__I agree. His behavior is highly irregular._

_**Data_master178lbs: **__Insufficient data to draw any conjecture from the brief interlude we just had. Hope we will bump into him again._

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_Errrmmm….. Guys, you don't think he could be Atobe, right?_

_**Data_master178lbs and Tensai_tokyoU exit the room.**_

_**Oishi_21**_**: **_?!_

_**Oishi_21 exits the room.**_


	3. Chapter 3

It was another week before Ryoma brought his mind back to that particular dialogue. His parents had been quite outraged that morning of the nightmare, to wake up to the rhythmic sounds of a tennis ball hitting the solid wall in their backyard. Very aware of their son's habits, they had quickly seen through the yarn Ryoma tried to spin, a little _charming_ tale about how Karupin got into his bed and woke him up for food, and infused him with a _burning_ desire to practice his tennis some time around six in the morning. They knew, and Ryoma knew they knew, that only two things, Karupin or a nightmare could wake Ryoma up before dawn, but definitely only a nightmare could have prevented him from going back to bed again. Nanjiroh had insisted upon contacting Dr Jacquemann immediately, not even bothering to wait until after breakfast, and the good doctor agreed to bringing forward his patient's review session to the following morning.

Frankly speaking, Ryoma was relieved that his parents actually behaved like parents with their over-reaction when the situation called for it. If they had failed to notice, it would have taken Ryoma at least a fortnight of those nightmares before he would willingly admit his vulnerability to them. He took a lot of pride in his recovery, and took care to prevent his parents from worrying whenever possible. After all, they had barely grown out of treating him like spun glass since the incident.

The following morning, he dutifully went for his appointment, and was actually in a rather calm mood. The nightmare had not haunted him the night before, and he was beginning to hope that it was just a _one-off thing_, perhaps triggered by an unusually exhausting training schedule that week. Dr Jacquemann said nothing to let him down, and mainly agreed with his belief that this is a singular event, and perhaps not making a bigger fuss will do more to help Ryoma along. The doctor did however, speak with Nanjiroh and request that Ryoma be put on a more relaxed schedule for the week. Ryoma had not expected his father to take the orders so seriously, but upon reaching home, Nanjiroh had immediately taken it upon himself to lock _all_ tennis equipment in the basement. Ryoma was banned from the court in the backyard and only allowed his usual jog in the mornings and evenings. All sponsorship events and interviews were postponed or cancelled. If Ryoma thought being treated like spun glass was bad, he now knew it could get a whole lot worse, like being treated as an invalid instead. This would have been pretty all right, that is, if Ryoma was indeed in the fragile state of mind just like after the incident, but since it was not, he was bored out of his mind. He spent a greater part of time trying to escape his parents' coddling, usually by setting Karupin on them, and sneaking away to the nearby tennis courts. Being a celebrity had its inconveniences though, and when he was recognized, he usually had to make some clumsy exit to avoid the people slowly crowding in on him. He could not judge whether the entire charade was actually more exhausting than his tennis schedule, but it certainly meant that he did not really have time to think on the simple exchange he had over the internet.

Finally, after a week of nightmare-free nights, Ryoma was relieved to be _declared_ fit again, and have his tennis suspension uplifted. Hoping to find out more about the Tokyo University tennis team, he began his research on Saturday afternoon, to seek out videos of photographs, especially of their captain or vice-captain. The official school website was not really useful since like any other school website, it was more a listing of their records and achievements than actually introducing any student of the school. He eventually found a photograph of the whole team from a news article sometime ago, but since it did not captioned their names, he could not make out who was who. There were two bespectacled persons in the picture, and somehow he was hit with a gut feeling that the _data master _must wear glasses.

After two hours of disappointment, he decided to stay up late and log on to the chat room, figuring that it was the quicker solution. But his efforts did not reward him, since no one from the Tokyo University tennis team was online. For that matter no one from any University tennis team was online. From the conversations he caught, he was in a room overtaken by amateurs _and_ groupies. _This was not good_. He knew, from referring to their official schedule on the school website, that a match or practice could not be keeping them away. _Sigh_. Feeling slightly irritated, he snapped his laptop shut with such a force that Karupin gave a startled mew, and stared at Ryoma with an affronted look.

"All right, all right, I'm going to bed now so don't give me that look, girl." Giving his dear pet a little scratch behind the ears, he settled into his bed. Karupin leapt from perch on the table and took up her usual post at his foot.

Just before Ryoma drifted off, the team picture he saw in the day floated through his mind. And the last thing that stood out was the stern face of the bespectacled member standing on the right, with his arms folded.

For the first time since the incident, Ryoma thought going to college might not be such a bad idea.

Since it was not Ryoma's nature to waste time deliberating over matters, the subject was broached at dinner the next day. On hind sight, Ryoma might have chosen a better time for it, and definitely not when Nanjiroh had food in his mouth. As it was, Ryoma barely escaped _all_ the particles ejected from his father's mouth, thanks to quick reflexes acquired through years of training. Fortunately, his mother did much better and only dropped her spoon, spilling a little bit of soup on the floor. "Nani!?" Ryoma did not repeat himself since he was certain they had heard him the first time. Smirking to himself, he got up from his chair to get some kitchen towels for the mess, giving his parents more time to stare at him as though he had grown a second head.

After he finished cleaning the mess, and his parents still had not spoken another word or even moved, he calmly dropped his second bombshell.

"Actually, I was thinking of Tokyo University."

It was all too much for his parents. They had scarcely registered his wish to attend college, and were now forced to deal with his choice of college. Although Ryoma felt a perverted sense of achievement in shocking his parents, particularly his father, twice in a single evening, his worry grew when his parents continued to be immobile, as though they were frozen in time. After what seemed like a lifetime to Ryoma, his mother was the first to recover and exclaim, "Oh Ryoma, college finally!" before engulfing her son in a bear hug, much to his dismay. Evidently, the elation derived from the first part of his revelation far outweighed the latter part for his mother. She would probably even send him to the North pole if there were actually a college there Ryoma could be interested in. Nanjiroh, however, appeared to be at a complete loss for words, which was a second time occurrence in his life. The first, being the time when he laid eyes upon his son on the hospital bed right after the incident. The wide difference in the two circumstances was felt keenly, and if Nanjiroh had not been as fit a tennis coach as he was, his heart might have stopped then. As if on cue, his wife promptly assumed his muteness for acquiescence, and began rambling on the logistics of such a move. It was only when the words, "… and of course, he will have to take some time out of the tournaments…" were spoken, did Nanjiroh's awareness returned to the discussion.

It was all very simple to state wishes, but the "how to get there" was the difficult part. Nanjiroh was not sure if Ryoma had already thought things through but his wife seemed to have. She had already reached the part on where they should live in Tokyo, before Nanjiroh interrupted with the question, "Ryoma, how do you intend to get in?" The question hung in the air, as Ryoma's mother sputtered to a full stop. _Right, trust his dad to always open up the jar of worms._ It was not that Ryoma had not worked it out, but that it involved an activity which Ryoma had not done in the longest time.

"Study."

Nanjiroh raised his eyebrows at the curt reply. He had to give it to his son for pure audaciousness. To his knowledge, universities in Tokyo operated on a semester basis, and the earliest entrance exam was a mere four months away. By no means was his son stupid, but he was no genius either. Maybe at tennis, but not books for sure. As much as exceptions were made for sport stars and the like, Tokyo University was one of those colleges with a minimum criterion it did not fall below. It was incredulous. _How was his son going to make up six years of education in four months?_

"It's not like I am particular about my course. I just want to get in. And I see no harm in trying." With that final statement, Ryoma quickly left for his bedroom upstairs, knowing his mother would settle the rest of it with Nanjiroh, and not wanting his parents to start questioning his motives. If they did, he was not sure if he could answer with any conviction.

After all, finding a new tennis opponent was a rather frivolous reason for college. Even for a Grand Slam champion.


	4. Chapter 4

Never let it be said that Ryoma's mother did not care for her boy. A mother's love could move mountains, or in this case, even a very stubborn Nanjiroh. It was all thanks to her efforts that Ryoma now found himself walking out of the exam hall in Tokyo University, contemplating a visit to the tennis courts, before heading _home_. Yes, in the span of two weeks right after _that _dinner, his mother had miraculously manipulated Nanjiroh into purchasing a lovely residence in the peaceful suburban area of Tokyo, about an hour's ride to the University. She had wanted some place nearer, but unfortunately, seeing how both Nanjiroh and her son were easily recognizable in Japan, they needed an area that respected privacy and was probably already home to many Japanese celebrities in Tokyo. Such an area, of course, could not be found within any walking distance of the University.

The sponsors were at first, furious about the relocation, but after a long _chat_ with Ryoma's mother at their new home, they left, not only pacified but quite ecstatic about the gleaming future she painted for them and Ryoma. To her, it had only been the truth anyways. Pursuing higher education would in fact, lead to an enhanced image for Ryoma as the ideal role model for adolescent sports stars, and a more normal Ryoma would appeal even more to his generation, since they could better identify with him. He would no longer just be the invincible Samurai, but the invincible Samurai who went to school like the rest of them.

Yes, Ryoma's mother was a very, very powerful woman.

The swift relocation was another brilliant tactic on her part to move things beyond her husband's control, and forestall a reversal of events should her son be unsuccessful in his first attempt. Apparently, either she had the utmost confidence in Ryoma's abilities, or she believed that one way or another, it was only a matter of time before her son passes the entrance exams, and got himself into the University. Ryoma would just have to keep trying, and a home in Japan would more likely ensure such future attempts should they become necessary, than staying in the States, where Nanjiroh could easily pressurized her son into going back to the pro circuit. After everything his mother went through to get them here, Ryoma feverishly prayed that he simply would pass the first time so as not to disappoint the indomitable woman.

As he went through the exam questions in his mind once more, he gave a small sigh of relief that the whole blasted thing was finally over. It had not been as difficult as he anticipated, and although he had hardly spared a minute from the books except to sleep these past four months, he was still thankful that he could walk away with at least a modicum of confidence that he would not fail. In all honesty, the University had broken its own record in lowering the bar for him, since how could any university in Japan resist the allure of a sports legend, especially of the Echizen kind gracing their halls? Despite a complete lack of academia records beyond middle school, he was only required to take the examination for only Japanese, Mathematics and English, the last subject being a requisite due to his application to study English at the University. The languages were not a problem, merely entailing the application of mnemonic skills to bring his vocabulary up to speed, and Ryoma had a distinct advantage in his American upbringing. He struggled with Mathematics though, and if his mother had not argued with the University enrollment office about his _very _unique circumstances and selected course, he doubted he could have pulled through. All in all, he knew he had a lot to be grateful for, as the Mathematics exam became only a very basic test of logic and algebra, which he did master in that short interval leading up to the exam.

_Thwack! Thwack! _The sounds of the tennis courts broke through his revelry, and Ryoma was slightly surprised. He had not expected a practice session to be taking place since he had spied some notices earlier, informing all clubs and sports to cancel their activities for that day to avoid disturbing the examinations. Obviously the tennis team was exempt, most probably due to their upcoming Nationals and the fact that the courts were actually quite a distance from the hall. Still, it was an indication that the University took its tennis seriously, and if Ryoma had any lingering doubts about his decision, they were washed away with this discovery. He certainly could not have borne a place with a tennis attitude that was not aligned with his own.

Briefly, Ryoma wondered if he should interrupt the team. Due to his status, he was actually in some sort of disguise. Well, as much as one could disguise a legendary tennis star without a mask or surgery anyways. His long hair with its mysterious sea-green highlights had been one of his most prominent features, providing the finishing touch to his cold invincible Samurai image when he tied it up during the games. It was now cut painfully short, dyed back to black and basically buried under a white Fila cap, which he wore to obscure his face more than the locks itself. What really did the trick were the thick black-framed decorative glasses he wore. The _common _person would not figure him to be a sports star or even someone who played sports in this get-up. He looked like, to put it neatly, a _nerd_. But Ryoma was sure that tennis_ fanatics _would definitely still be able to identify him once they got close enough. His pair of large cat-like hazel eyes, even partly concealed behind the frames, was a dead give-away. And it did look like there were plenty of these fanatics on the courts in front of him, seeing how the intensive practice was continuing even under the scorching afternoon sun. Finding a comfortable perch on the slope nearby, he settled on maintaining a good distance from the courts, to observe the session. Although the figures on court looked quite small from his vantage point, his excellent eyesight served him well, and he could even make out several of the faces on the courts nearest to him.

A tall bespectacled male in a blue and white jersey was furiously scribbling notes as he stood on the sidelines, analyzing what looked to be a doubles practice match. Ryoma easily connected him to one of the two bespectacled persons in the team picture he had seen. The _178-pounds_ _data guy._ Most probably. The height most certainly seemed to match that weight and it would explain the notebook as well. But he was boring as hell to watch since his nose was buried in that notebook half the time, so Ryoma moved on to study the match itself. He could associate none of the four faces with those in the team picture, so he thought they had to be just members, instead of team regulars. The standard of play was nevertheless promising, and Ryoma could perceive that despite one pair being clearly more well-coordinated, with the greater advantage, the other pair was still making them work for it. After a few more volleys and the final smash that ended the set, Ryoma shifted his attention to the singles match on the next court. The quick movement of the players at the distance made it tricky to distinguish their features, but he thought he could see that one of them had sandy brown hair, and played with closed eyes and a Mona Lisa smile. Ryoma could not quite recollect if this fellow was in the team picture, but from his _easy_ relaxed stance of play on the court, he must be fairly good. His balls were all falling accurately to alternate far end corners of the court, a usual tactic to swiftly tire out the opponent but required an immense level of control. After a while of keeping this up however, it appeared that his opponent did not seem to be faltering in the least despite the extra physical strain and sweltering heat. All the balls were calmly and beautifully returned, and the rally continued in an endless fashion.

So engrossed was Ryoma in watching the match, waiting impatiently for that almost imperceptible chance opening where one of them would score, that he failed to notice the approach of a stranger until a questioning voice in a deep tenor spoke up above him.

"_Who are you?_"


	5. Chapter 4 & the half

Ryoma Echizen did not take well to being startled by strangers.

Not since the incident anyways.

All this time, he had always been very careful to avoid narrow streets or places with corners that could easily hide a person, and he _never_ went out after dark unless in the company of either one of his parents. Even at home, there was a simple golden rule that the Echizen household abided by strictly. His parents or their guests if there were any, always made sure to announce their presence, either by the sound of a heavier footfall or voicing his name, long before they showed up before him.

No playful taps on the back for jokes, no surprises, and god forbid, definitely no "guess who?" games.

Ironically, due to the very _same _acute sense of paranoia, Nanjiroh's suggestion of hiring a personal bodyguard for his son was also moot. Ryoma could not stand anyone trailing, following or even just standing behind him, be it good intentioned or otherwise, especially when he was alone.

There was that one freakish time after Ryoma's recovery, when Dr Jacquemann had suggested to Nanjiroh to occasion a simple test of Ryoma's tolerance for personal protection, and an eager Nanjiroh had sent out an agent on one of Ryoma' morning jog trails. The agent was given strict orders to keep himself _absolutely _invisible unless the situation called for action. Action that in Nanjiroh's opinion, should not have included carrying his young charge back home, unconscious and unable to be roused until the doctor was called in.

But as it was, the agent could not be held liable for _said_ action.

Ryoma, being the prodigy he was, with heightened peripheral vision and finely tuned senses, had not needed very long to discover his _invisible _shadow. According to Ryoma's version of events in the aftermath, he had first experienced a mild sense of panic, sort of like the dreaded feeling where one did not know whether to just make a run for it or turn around to confront a stalker, only to be amplified a few moments later when black spots began crowding out his sight. At this point, his mind finally gave in to the blinding terror, and he collapsed on the sidewalk, thankfully without sustaining any lasting injury. Dr Jacquemann later pronounced that perhaps it was best not to push Ryoma further and the bodyguard subject was henceforth dropped, to Nanjiroh's immense disappointment.

All along, Nanjiroh had harboured hopes that perhaps a little perseverence in this peculiar aspect of Ryoma's life could pave the way towards gradual tolerance, then accustomization and ultimately _"embrace_-_ment"_. After all, paranoia, just like all things in his universe, should work like tennis. It just took training and exposure.

At any rate, Ryoma was not _cured_ and thus, it should come as no surprise that Ryoma reacted rather _poorly_, to being caught so completely unawares on that fateful day near the Tokyo University tennis courts.

He passed out.

Right into the arms of a bewildered Tezuka Kunimitsu.


	6. Chapter 5

There is always a first time for everything.

Even a first time for which a first time was _never_ expected.

Just like it was now for Tezuka.

It was not every day you expected a stranger to faint at your feet, even if you were one of the most popular males on campus. Top grades in law, a member of the elite student council, and vice-captain of the tennis team, coupled with desirable looks, made for a stunning package that could certainly make many of the opposite or even the same gender swoon, but Tezuka's reserved and aloof personality usually kept such individuals at bay, contended with admiring from a respectful distance, and shrouding him in mysterious appeal.

Flung throughout campus were countless comparisons between Atobe and himself, often likening Atobe to the _sun_, whose magnificence could be felt as surely as the earth lit up with every rotation, and Tezuka to the _moon_, whose exquisiteness remained too distant to grasp. The analogy was rather juvenile by University standards, bordering on the whimsical, and although Tezuka did not find the patience for such fanciful detachments of reality, he was not, unfortunately, ignorant of it.

Atobe had, of course, taken perverse pleasure in the celestial association, and often teased Tezuka about it, much to the latter's dismay.

_Moon_ or not, Tezuka did not know what to make of the predicament he currently found himself in. He had spotted the unfamiliar silhouette on his way back from a meeting with Atobe, and found it highly out of the ordinary. Usually casual visitors were allowed to freely roam the University grounds and Tezuka had grown quite used to the gawking or assessing glances of the many passersby that frequent the sidelines of the courts during their practice sessions. What had struck him as perplexing about this one was the distance at which the observer had chosen to place his self. Tezuka had reckoned that if it were for shade, the sheltered walkways next to the courts should provide more of that than the slope which had no tree cover at all. Something about the stranger's posture convinced him that it was not a coincidental resting spot but a deliberate attempt to study the courts and yet stay unnoticed. Once presented with such a conclusion, Tezuka could no longer avoid making an inquiry into the matter, a decision which he was now lamenting to some degree since it landed him in this inconvenient, not to mention somewhat frustrating state.

He _still_ had no answers and the young man was _still _out cold in his arms.

With each passing minute of unsuccessfully trying to rouse the man, Tezuka grew more incredulous at his burden. _Could he really have startled the lad so?_ He had caught a glance of the man's expression just before he collapsed, and the look of pure unadulterated fright had surprised him. But it had been so fleeting that Tezuka, due to his sensibilities, could only attribute the whole thing to his imagination. As much as he was renowned for traumatizing the junior members with just a gaze or question, he hardly thought this _achievement_ was possible with random strangers_. _He wondered with some alarm if there was something wrong instead, perhaps the strange man had come down with some sort of affliction or the summer heat had really gotten to him. The campus infirmary was, unfortunately, closed on weekends. There was first aid in the clubhouse but Tezuka doubted that there was anything, smelling salts or the like, in it that would help the problem, an oversight which Tezuka would certainly rectify after this day.

The man felt like dead weight in his arms, and was _still_ resisting all of Tezuka's shaking and vocal attempts to wake him.

As Tezuka saw it, only three options were left, all of which were equally distasteful for him.

For one, he could apply the typical _splash_ treatment, something which the changing rooms in the clubhouse could definitely provide. Ever the well-mannered gentleman, a product of his upbringing, Tezuka may feel quite at ease with dousing a familiar team member with water, but it was entirely too impolite and unnecessary for a stranger. The same reservations kept him from considering the second alternative as well, to search the man's belongings, in this case, the blue backpack laying so temptingly on the ground, for some kind of identification. Tezuka was a person who valued his own privacy greatly, and for him to violate that of another, regardless of the oblivion state said person was in, was simply unthinkable. He could not, and would not, on good conscience, proceed without permission.

Lastly, he could just call Oishi over, and leave everything to the capable hands of his good friend. On any other day, Tezuka would have no qualms doing so, but as fate would have it, Oishi was urgently needed at home this weekend since his aged grandparents were on a visit. He had already applied to Tezuka to leave slightly earlier before practice ended, and Tezuka had granted it without hesitation.

As a leader, he should keep his word.

As a good friend, he _must_.

Sighing inwardly, he took another exasperated look at his watch. Practice would be ending in another ten minutes. If not for this little _digression_, he would have been able to conduct a short debriefing with his team before he let them off. The pressure of the Nationals just peeking around the corner was building up and they could not afford to be careless. He was already quite concerned over Atobe, who was heavily bogged down by that MBA project of his, with that "_blasted professor_", in the captain's own words, "_who dare to challenge me! Me! I will show her what is 'do or die'!" _

And now, this. _This _trouble that had to, pardon the pun, literally fall onto him.

Giving up any hope of returning to the courts, he gently lowered the stranger onto the ground, took out his mobile, and dialed Oishi's number. It connected without even one ring, an indication that Oishi must have been just about to call him.

"Ahhh yes, Tezuka, where are you? I was just about to call you…"

"Apologies Oishi, I have something to attend to. Please end the session now, and head home yourself. Leave the lock-up to me. I will be returning shortly."

True to form, his good friend picked up the tense tone immediately, and responded with a deluge of worried questions. "Is everything OK? Errmm… it's nothing bad, right? How did the meeting with Atobe go? Is he all right? Are you with him now? … Should I go over? Hmm… where exactly…."

"Thank you Oishi. Nothing of concern. Have a good weekend with your grandparents."

And with that, Tezuka ended the call. It was a little curt, but he knew Oishi was comfortable with his often efficient brisk manner of communication. He would trust Tezuka at his word, and follow his instructions to a fault, sparing any anxiety for later when they could speak again. Tezuka was not looking forward to _that_ conversation.

In the distance, he saw the courts being cleared off. He could easily spot Fuji and Inui heading back to the clubhouse, and he knew he had to wait at least another fifteen minutes before he had the area all to himself. For some reason, he felt it was better to keep this matter to himself, for now at least. Fuji and Inui were both too curious about anything odd, and if left to their devices, this poor visitor might be subjected to an intensive interrogation, rivaling those conducted in the name of national security, complete with experimental juices and psychological dissections. That is, if they could wake him up. If he continued to be comatose and defenseless like how he was now, there was no saying how much they would take things further.

With an involuntary shudder at that thought, Tezuka settled beside the motionless body to wait, and gave a bemused smile when he realized that the visitor would have no idea what he just saved him from.

Finally composed and calm since he chanced upon him, Tezuka took the opportunity to carefully study the blissfully serene face, and the beginnings of a puzzled frown began to edge into his smile.

He recognized that face.


End file.
